


Of Fond Memories

by Letummordre



Series: Silver Tongue, Heart of Gold [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dialogue divergence in some parts, First Meetings, Gen, Otherwise mostly borrowed from the actual scene in game, Pre-Relationship, Recruiting the hot assassin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 18:31:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letummordre/pseuds/Letummordre
Summary: From Reddit, the prompt: "The Recruitment Scene- Write the scene where the Warden recruited one of their companions, but of course from said companion's pov."This is how Hap and Zevran met: a kick to the face and a subsequent interrogation scene. You know, how normal romances start.





	Of Fond Memories

Zevran has a mouth full of blood, and his head throbs in time with his heartbeat as he slowly comes back to awareness. One, at least, he has a solution for. The other seems like it will be a long-lasting annoyance. He spits the blood from his mouth, cracking one eye wearily open to see a boot standing directly in front of his face.

“You’re awake,” a voice says, smugly. “Good.”

And then it all floods back to him. His ambush on the Wardens, attempting to take down the leading one with his sword and dagger. And then getting kicked directly in the face with the force of a horse kick before everything had gone dark. _He plays dirty, this one._ He opens his other eye to glance upward.

The Warden has…. Very toned legs, under that armor.

And then the boot nudges closer to his face, making Zevran glance skyward toward the Warden’s narrowed eyes. It makes him lose track of his thoughts entirely except: _What a freak accident, to have two different colored eyes._

“I didn’t kick him _that_ hard.” The Warden says defensively to his companion, the tall human Warden, as the human eyes him with exasperation.

Zevran’s head throbs again, a sharp pain lancing through his forehead. “Oh, I rather thought that I would wake up dead. Or… not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see that you haven’t killed me yet.”

The Warden crosses his arms, raising his chin in a defiant sort of way. As if Zevran has just accused him of some sort of weakness. “That can be easily fixed.” He says, his voice heavily accented in the way human accents aren’t. A city elf then, not a Dalish one. His contract had specified nothing, and he hadn’t cared to know anyway. But now that he’s in this predicament… knowing his captors may be the only thing preventing him from death. “And anyway, I have questions. You’re no use to me dead.”

Zevran smirks, “Ah, so I’m to be interrogated. Let me spare you some time then—”

The Warden scoffs, “You’re just going to _give_ me information?”

Zevran’s neck is beginning to tense, looking up at the awkward angle he is. But if he moves, without a doubt the Warden will finish him off without hesitation.

“My name is Zevran,” he continues on, as if the Warden has said nothing. “Zev to my friends. I’m a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens… which I have failed at, sadly.”

The Warden’s nose scrunches, and he levels an annoyed look at Zevran. “Sadly? I rather like being alive, thanks. I’m glad you failed.”

“I’m sure you are.” Zevran chuckles. The Warden doesn’t laugh with him.

“What are the Antivan Crows?” The human Warden says, at a half-whisper.

“We’re—”

“Assassins from Antiva.” The elven Warden says, directly. “Your kind travel through Denerim’s marketplace from time to time. I’ve met them before, even if they never said directly who they were.” He adds to Zevran, with a slightly unimpressed tone. “For how obvious this ambush was, I would say the Crows’ reputation isn’t quite what it used to be.”

Zevran almost winces, though part of him delights in the blunt attitude of this Warden. That could be exploited later, if the Warden doesn’t finish him off first.

“You came from Antiva, then?” He adds, finally dropping his arms from where they’re crossed on his chest.

“Not precisely, I was in the neighborhood when the offer came. The Crows get around, you see.”

“Enough bullshitting. Who hired you to kill Alistair and I?” The Warden asks, seemingly having reached his limit.

“A rather taciturn fellow in the Capital. Loghain, I think his name was?” He considers it for a moment, “Yes, that’s it.”

The Warden’s change in mood is immediate. He turns to give his human companion—Alistair, it seems—a direct look as if this is his fault. “Of course it is.” He says, annoyed. “I told you he wouldn’t just walk away from all this. He left us to die there, did you think we could honestly lay low enough not to be noticed?”

Alistair shifts uncomfortably, “I didn’t think we’d be recognized.”

The Warden stares at him incredulously, then motions to his own face. “How many tattooed elves with my eye colors do you know? Especially one that is leading a bunch of _humans_.”

The mabari barks.

“And a war dog.” The Warden adds, absentmindedly stooping slightly to pat the mabari.

“Precisely.” The dark-haired woman in the back says, from behind the elven Warden. “’Twas a matter of time before something such as this would happen.”

“Focus, Hap.” Alistair mumbles, motioning toward Zevran who has started to inch himself into a more comfortable position.

“Are you loyal to Loghain, or is this just your contract?” The Warden asks, turning to glare at him.

Zevran starts to lift a hand, but the Warden’s hand tightens on his sword and Zevran thinks better of it. “I have no idea what his issues are with you. The usual, I imagine. You threaten his power, yes?”

The elven Warden shrugs, but his eyes remain narrowed.

“Beyond that, no. I’m not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service.”

“A _service._ ” Alistair repeats lowly. If he’s expecting the elven Warden to react, he doesn’t.

“And what now?” He asks, “You failed your service.”

“That’s between Loghain and the Crows. And between the Crows and myself.”

“Bullshit.” The elven Warden says, “You attempted to murder me. This is **my** business now.”

“Well… I thought that was what we were establishing here, no? I’m giving you information.”

The Warden rolls his eyes, “Right.” He draws out the word, “When were you going to see him next then?”

“I wasn’t. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results. If he didn’t already know. If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, at least as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then.”

“ **If** you had failed.” The Warden repeats pointedly.

 _So he is paying attention._ “What can I say? I’m an eternal optimist.” He jokes, showing the Warden his most charming grin. “Although the chances of succeeding at this point seem a bit slim, don’t they?” He chuckles, “No I suppose you wouldn’t find that funny.” But despite everything, the corner of the Warden’s mouth _has_ turned up into somewhat of a smirk.

His companions however look far less amused by this.

“I think that’s enough, isn’t it?” Alistair says quietly, “Shouldn’t we just… kill him and go?”

“Why? I find wit amusing... especially from a man on his knees.” The Warden says, his tone taking on something coy.

_Better and better, really._

“Why are you telling me all this?” He says instead, to Zevran.

Zevran chuckles, “Why not? I wasn’t paid for _silence_. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely.”

“Ah, I see. Loyalty isn’t your strong point is it?” The Warden says, as if he’s discovered something he’s been searching for. Maybe he has. People ask different questions for different reasons, and at least this one hadn’t involved beating him any worse than he’s already been battered.

“ _Loyalty_ is an interesting concept,” Zevran says, pointedly. “If you wish, and you’re done interrogating me, we can discuss it further.”

It seems a reach to ask, but if the Warden has already hesitated and has listened to him this long… it’s worth the try isn’t it? And now that he’s amused the man, albeit briefly, he can see a gap of opportunity opening up for him. And he’s never one to let a chance pass him by.

“You’re kidding.” Alistair says, incredulous.

The Warden smirks. “I’m listening. Make it quick, this has taken long enough.”

“ _What?_ ” Alistair frowns behind him. The human woman looks even less pleased.

“Well, here’s the thing.” Zevran says quickly, before the elf changes his mind, “I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That’s how it works. If you don’t kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead.”

“Oh, so I can expect the same amount of loyalty from you?” the Warden asks, placing his hands on his hips.

“I happen to be a very loyal person.” Zevran frowns, disapprovingly. “Up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing. That’s not a fault really, is it? I mean, unless you’re the sort who would do the same thing. In which case I… don’t come very well recommended, I suppose.” _Fantastic, that was not the selling point we were going for, now is it Zevran?_

“Well see, if we fail I won’t be alive to kill you off.” The Warden says, seemingly without feeling. “Our job is to kill that Archdemon. And if we fail, all of Ferelden dies with us. So, that’s open to interpretation.”

 _I like him._ Zevran decides. _Joking about the entire fate of the country as if it’s inconsequential? I’ll take it. And anyway, it’s not a ‘no’._ He still has a chance here.

“Well it won’t be _you_ threatening to kill me, as it were.”

“Maybe my corpse staring at you in disdain.”

“You’re staring at me with just as much disdain right now, I think I can handle it.”

The Warden grins, albeit just for a moment. “What’s to stop you from finishing the job?”

Zevran ponders just how much truth there should be in this answer. But then, his life _is_ on the line here… and a sympathetic story is far more likely to get him what he wants isn’t it? “To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child.”

The Warden frowns, but Zevran can’t tell if it’s a sympathetic frown, or one of him trying to figure out if Zevran is toying with him.

“I think I’ve paid my worth to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can’t touch.”

“Oh.” The Warden says, surprised. And there it is, exactly what Zevran was hoping for: understanding.

“Even if I did kill you now, they might kill me just on principal for failing the first time. Honestly, I’d rather take my chances with you.” _Is that enough for you?_

The Warden looks away from him toward the broken cart behind him, seemingly thinking deeply. The human woman and Alistair exchange glances behind his back. The woman scoffs, looking away.

“What do you want in return?” The Warden asks abruptly, and Zevran glances back at him with his eyebrows raised.

“Well… let’s see. Being allowed to live would be nice, and would make me marginally more useful to you. And somewhere down the line if you should decide that you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?”

Something in the Warden’s face softens. He can’t possibly explain it, but all the remaining coldness in him floods away to something more vulnerable. If only for a moment.

“That’s it? Living, and your freedom should I want you to go? That’s all you’re asking for?”

“It doesn’t seem too much to ask.” Zevran says, slightly confused at this. W _here is he going with this? What does **he** want out of this?_

“I accept your offer.” The Warden says, “but—”

“What? You’re taking the assassin with us now?” Alistair shouts, furrowing his eyebrows. “Does that really seem like a good idea?”

The Warden’s eyebrows raise high as he turns his head to glare at Alistair, “Oh excuse me, I thought you put _me_ in charge of all this. Beside, _you’re_ here, aren’t you? Picking up castoffs is apparently what I do.”

“Ouch,” Alistair frowns, “I mean… you have a point, but ouch.”

“We could use him.” The Warden says, offering Zevran a hand up.

“Hmm. Alright, I… see your point. Still if there was a sign that we’re desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello.”

“Oh, it did a long time ago, trust me.” The Warden says, exasperatedly. 

“A fine plan,” the woman says, “But I would examine your food and drink far more closely from now on, were I you.”

Zevran nearly chuckles, “That’s fine advice for anyone.” He says, taking the Warden’s hand and wincing as his body aches. The Warden had fought him mercilessly, that’s for sure. _So why did he stop? Why didn’t he kill me when he had the chance? Why just wait for answers when he surely could have found out on his own?_

“I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you,” he starts, already feeling embarrassed by the look of confusion dawning on the Warden’s face. “Until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation… this I swear.”

The Warden’s expression goes through so many emotions that Zevran can’t pluck out exactly what’s going on in his head. But finally he settles on a sly little smirk that peaks Zevran’s interest far more than it probably should. “ _My_ man, hmm? Well, well. Being a Warden isn’t _all_ bad, I suppose.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Alistair groans.

The Warden ignores this. “Thank you, Zevran.” He says, instead. “I’m Hap, that’s Alistair and this is Morrigan. And the dog. Alistair calls him Barkspawn. He answers mostly to ‘Dog’, but we’re working on it.”

Zevran smirks, “I see. Well, I didn’t realize I would be traveling with such a _lovely_ group of companions. I suppose I am lucky after all.”

“Don’t test your luck, pal.” Hap says, but sounds pleased regardless. “Let’s move on. We have a lot of ground to cover before it gets dark.”

“As you wish.” Zevran says, enjoying the little smile Hap gives him as he passes by. Alistair watches him wearily, but doesn’t move away when Zevran falls into step beside him. The Warden leads them onward down the road, past the cart.

He should feel some hint of uncertainty, some fear that he’ll never go home… but right now he basks in relief that he’s still alive. Still will make it another day. Still can find a way to escape, should he hate this situation. But something tells him this Warden won’t be nearly as bad as he originally thought.

Still, he finds himself perched silently next to the Warden’s bedroll that night, knife in hand as he contemplates it. He could, theoretically, kill the Warden now and run off. It’s possible with enough stealth that the Crows will never find him. But he wasn’t lying that the Warden being alive is a far better situation. So long as the Warden is willing to protect him, he’s proven himself capable of taking down Crows in a fight.

And with the military organization that the Wardens are attempting to build, he could hide in plain sight relatively easily. Untouchable.

“Are you going to do it or not?” The Warden asks, glancing up at him over his shoulder. His long brown hair is free of its braid, spilling over his bedroll and the ground without concern.

“Do what?” Zevran plays for innocence, sheathing his knife covertly. “I was simply admiring the view.”

“You’d rather be a creep than admit you thought about killing me again?” Hap chuckles, “I’m not sure if I’m flattered.”

“You’re no use to me dead.” Zevran points out. “Forgive me, I’ll see myself out.”

“If you’re going to sneak away, lift that back flap of the tent.” Hap mumbles, “If Alistair and the dog see you, they’ll probably want to kill you on sight. It would take explaining.”

“Good night, Warden.” Zevran says, with some amusement.

“’Night Zevran.” Hap says, closing his eyes. In the darkness, his tattoos look like dark holes in his face, the intricate swirls below them and up into his forehead chasms falling away from the rest of his flesh. The dark plays tricks on people, of course. But it still reminds him that he doesn’t know any of these people, and to err on the side of caution for now.

He has plans to make in the morning.


End file.
